


Full Circle

by elldotsee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Callback to ASiP, Crack, Fresh Revenge, Idiots in Love, John and Sherlock are shagging, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, One more than she was expecting, Sally makes a deduction, Sherlock is creative, and so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 17:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16877133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elldotsee/pseuds/elldotsee
Summary: Sherlock: Your deodorant told me.Anderson: My deodorant?Sherlock: It's for men.Anderson: Well, ofcourseit's for men!I'mwearing it!Sherlock: So's Sergeant Donovan.(transcript excerpt from the ever lovely Ariane Devere)





	Full Circle

**Author's Note:**

> This ridiculous idea came to me in the shower today. You know how it goes. It demanded to be written. 
> 
> It was tons of fun to write and highly satisfying. Enjoy :)

Sherlock stretched languidly, every muscle in his body warm and loose. Next to -  _ and half-on-top-of _ \- him, John looked equally sated, with his heavily lidded eyes and soft mouth curved into a lazy smile. 

 

“No one would ever believe the great Sherlock Holmes is such a  _ cuddler.” _ He teased, nudging Sherlock’s calf with his toes. 

 

Sherlock blew out a breath through his nose that was half-snort, half self-deprecating laugh. 

 

“No one would believe that anyone would want to.” 

 

John shifted to press more fully against Sherlock and Sherlock’s lower half twitched in vague interest, despite the extraordinary attention it had just been paid. 

 

The sex was still new. It had only been a few weeks since they had made the obvious and long overdue leap from friends to lovers, and Sherlock found that he wanted to tell everyone he knew. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, sky write it, spray paint it on buildings-  _ Sherlock Holmes is shagging John Watson.  _

 

It was mind-blowing. 

 

From somewhere beneath their pile of discarded clothing, Sherlock’s mobile chimed. John’s grip tightened around his waist, his breath warm against Sherlock’s chest as he grunted his displeasure. 

 

“Could be a case.” Sherlock whispered half-heartedly. He was equally loath to move, though the pleasant warmth was rapidly cooling into something much more unpleasantly sticky. 

 

With a deep sigh, John slid off the bed and rummaged around until the mobile was located. He handed it to Sherlock and padded off to the bathroom, where the sound of water could be heard a moment later. 

 

Sherlock thumbed open his screen and let out a whoop when he saw the message. 

 

With a knowing grin, John stuck his head back around the doorframe. 

 

“Good one?” 

 

“Triple homicide in Brixton. All redheads.” Sherlock couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. Sex with John  _ and _ a serial killer in the same day?? He was so happy, he thought he might burst. Once again, the desire to proclaim his good fortune nearly overwhelmed him. Perhaps he’d tell Lestrade. Hell, maybe he’d tell the whole Yard! 

Leaping to his feet, he rushed past John and into the bathroom, hastily knocking things over in his glee. When he bent to pick up John’s deodorant from where it had rolled under the toilet, an idea suddenly struck him. Chuckling to himself, he straightened, tucking the small container into the bin and covering it carefully with a few tissues before climbing into the shower. 

 

He mentally patted himself on the back when a few minutes later, right on cue, John asked him if he’d seen his deodorant. Arranging his expression into fond annoyance, he hastily thrust his own into John’s hand, urging him to hurry and use it before they missed all the fun! Not even John’s teasing jab at the “poshness of Cedarwood and Juniper ‘pits” was enough to tamper his joy. 

____________

 

Sherlock leaned against the alley wall, breathing hard. Next to him, John was bent over at the waist, trying to catch his breath as well. The case had been disappointingly simple - a jealous husband trying to find the correct redheaded man that he had caught in bed with his wife. There had been an exciting chase, though, and Sherlock had had the distinct pleasure of watching John tackle the suspect, which happened to be one of Sherlock’s favorite pastimes. 

 

Straightening, John turned to face him, eyes skimming down his body in a way that made Sherlock’s skin tingle. 

 

“Christ, you’re filthy.” John chuckled, and Sherlock felt his eyes glaze over at the way John’s gaze seemed to linger. He glanced down, certain he would combust if John continued to look at him that way. He  _ was _ filthy. The knees of his trousers were dusty and one was torn from crawling around on all fours at the crime scenes. He was sweating; his shirt stuck to his back, and he could feel the dampness growing in his underarms. 

 

He glanced up, inhaling sharply as John crowded him against the wall.  _ Something _ ? He sniffed again.  _ Familiar, but not normally associated with John.  _ For a moment, he stood frozen, the gears in his head clicking into place so noisily, he was certain John would hear them. John’s words came back to him - _ Cedarwood and Juniper. Posh ‘pits.  _

 

Of course! In the excitement of the case, he had nearly forgotten his plan. 

 

“Oh,  _ yes _ ! Yes! I think that’ll do nicely. In Brixton, even! Full circle!” 

 

Giggling to himself, he grabbed John’s hand and marched him back down the street to where the last body had been found. As he had hoped, Sally was standing guard at the police tape, barking into her walkie-talkie. 

 

“Hullo, Freak. Did you catch him? Sounds like a right bastard.” 

 

Sidling up to her, he slipped his arm around her shoulders. She tensed, tossing her head to look up at him in annoyance. 

 

“Sure did, Salls. Isn’t that right, John?” Sherlock winked, trying his hardest not to laugh at their matching perplexed expressions. John shook his head, blinking rapidly. 

 

“Well, see ya around!” 

 

Sherlock pulled his arm away abruptly and waved as he stepped back. John - lovely, perfect,  _ wonderful _ John - waved too, just as Sherlock hoped he would. 

 

Sherlock held his breath, waiting. 

 

Sally’s nose twitched, her expression slowly morphing from confusion to complete shock. She whipped wide, disbelieving eyes over the pair of them, taking in Sherlock’s filthy trouser knees and his smug, cat-got-the-cream grin. 

 

“You!” She pointed at them, mouth gaping. “Took you long enough! Bunch of idiots, the pair of you, I swear to god.” 

 

Lestrade came out of the house just then, surely curious about the shouting. 

 

“What’s this then? Alright?” He glanced between Sherlock and Sally, then Sherlock and John, with his usual look of resigned puzzlement. 

 

Sally turned to walk further down the police line, but waved her hand in their direction, shouting over her shoulder. 

 

“They’re finally shagging!” Loud enough for the whole street to hear. “Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are finally shagging!” 

 

Sherlock smiled to himself and took John home to do exactly that again and again and again. 


End file.
